Tangled Up In Blue
by J9
Summary: Blue's supposed to be a soothing colour... (WS)


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Title: Tangled Up In Blue

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Author: Jeanine (jeanine@iol.ie)

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Rating: PG

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Pairing: Warrick/Sara

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Spoilers: None

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Feedback: Makes my day

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Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.

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Archive: At my site Checkmate () Anywhere else please ask first. 

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Summary: Blue is supposed to be a soothing colour…

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Author's Note: Written for the LiveJournal Writer's Choice "Colours" challenge - title comes from a Hootie and the Blowfish song, via Bob Dylan, but the story has nothing to do with either song. Just so you know. 

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Blue is supposed to be a soothing colour; at least that's what he's always been told. But today, when he walks into the locker room with its bluish tinge at the end of his shift, he feels anything but soothed. And it's nothing to do with the case, nothing to do with work at all, and everything to do with the vaguely unsettled feeling that he's had for much of the last couple of days. The feeling that something is wrong with a certain someone, and he can't quite put his finger on what it is. 

Nick's already at his locker, good to go, and he turns to Warrick with that easy smile of his. "Hey man. You up for breakfast?"

It's tempting, but Warrick shakes his head. "I think I'm gonna head home," he says, opening his locker, staring into it without seeing a thing. 

He doesn't look around when Nick chuckles. "The little lady got you on a short leash?"

Warrick winces, but not for the reason that Nick thinks. It's nothing to do with being on a leash, short or otherwise, and everything to do with the fact that he knows, like he knows his own name, that something's wrong with Sara. "Something like that," is all he says, and when he closes his locker and looks at Nick, he sees contrition, even worry on his friend's face. 

"Everything ok with you two? Because Sara didn't look so great yesterday, and she took her night off tonight…that's not like her."

All of which Warrick knows, and now he also knows that it's not just him being paranoid. "We'll work it out," he says simply, walking out of the room, Nick falling into step beside him as they step out into the clear morning air. 

Just like the locker room, the sky is perfect shade of blue, not a cloud to be seen, and Warrick knows that he should be enjoying the weather, looking forward to the morning before him; he should be growing more relaxed the further he gets from the lab. But the blue of the sky does nothing for him this morning, a knot of tension growing in his stomach as he nears his house. 

He's quiet as he turns the key in the lock, just in case she's sleeping, but a couple of steps into his living room tells him that he needn't have been worried about waking her. 

By the looks of her, there are other things to worry about. 

He can see her from the side, sitting on the couch, curled up into a little ball, as if she's trying to make herself as small as possible. Her knees are touching her chin, her arms wrapped tightly around them, and she's wearing his favourite blue shirt - his favourite because it's her favourite on him - and not much else. She doesn't stir when he comes in, though he knows she had to have heard him, and he approaches her carefully, worry transmuting to fear. 

"Sara?" He kneels down beside her, one hand going to her knee, and when she turns her eyes to him, he sees that they're rimmed in red. There are tear tracks on her cheek, fresh tears springing to her eyes as she looks at him, and his free hand lands on her back, makes circles on the blue material there. "What's wrong?" He barely recognises the ragged whisper as his own voice, but she's in worse shape than he; unable to vocalise an answer at all. 

Her reply takes the form of broken eye contact, her head turning slowly to the coffee table, fixing on something there. He follows her gaze, and it's then that he sees it, and he knows exactly what it is. 

A white stick, two circles on it, a clear blue line passing through one of them. 

As his brain struggles to make sense of what his eyes are seeing, she finds her voice. "I'm pregnant," she whispers, and the word makes his head turn, has him looking at her in stunned silence. "Say something," she pleads, another tear making its way down her cheek, landing on the blue of the shirt and spreading, turning it a deeper shade of blue.

He thinks that it's strange he should notice such a thing, then realises that he wants to remember everything, every detail of this. It's a surprise, sure, a shock even, but it's not an unwelcome one, and as the news sinks in, he feels a smile spreading slowly across his face, and he says the first thing that comes to mind. "Guess we should call Grams." 

Her eyes widen in shock, and he thinks she's going to laugh, but it comes out as more of a sob. That's all it takes for her composure to break completely, and he pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her, letting her cry on his shoulder. "It's gonna be fine," he tells her softly, manoeuvring himself into a sitting position on the couch, holding her tightly, continuing to whisper those and other soothing words into her hair, his hands rubbing up and down the blue material on her back. 

He's always been told that blue is supposed to be a soothing colour. Lying here like this, he knows that they're right. 


End file.
